


the open door

by Val Mora (valmora)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Inspired by Fanfiction, Lie Low At Lupin's (Harry Potter), M/M, One Shot, WIP Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 13:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/pseuds/Val%20Mora
Summary: Not every house a wizard lives in is a wizarding house; Remus's is, to him and to Sirius.(inspired by astolat's "House Proud")





	the open door

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [House Proud](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6177703) by [astolat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/astolat). 



They built Azkaban out of the sea so that no inmate could walk underhill to leave it.

   
  


Sometime in year two, Sirius scraped his fingers raw on the stone floor of his cell, long past bleeding. He was trying to dig his way down, already mindless and half a dog, but his ancestors had chosen iron and air, and there was the sea all around, anyway.

 

 

It was a different cottage than the one Sirius remembered, but that didn't mean much; he'd lost memories under the dark, and after this long even the ones he'd kept were warped.

As he came up the little stone pathway on all four paws, the wary presence of the house stirred briefly before letting him pass to the door. He could smell that no one had come that way for a couple of days, not even Remus, who was inside. 

Sirius shivered with longing and scratched at the door for a bit until Remus came to let him in.

"Hello, Padfoot," Remus said, turning so Sirius could slip past him into the house, and then once he'd closed the door Remus knelt and reached out a hand for Sirius to sniff.

Remus was good at this. He was used to it, even after a long time apart. Because Sirius's people had gone beneath the hills and his blood called out for it, and would seize on anything to make him go away, and Remus had learned how to bring him back.

Remus smelled like tea and rotting leaves and old books and warmed wool, and it was such a relief that Sirius pushed his nose into Remus's palm and whined. It was only the realization that he didn't have hands that made him change back.

"You probably want a bath," Remus said, even though Sirius had drooled on his hand in doggy joy. Sirius creaked to standing, and the hallway opened up, wide and warm and inviting, to the bathroom, where there was water steaming in the tub and the soap smelled of pine.

He tried not to weep a little with exhaustion and relief, but that was a lost cause, so he let go and did it. The water didn't cool at all.

 

When he got out, there was a too-small threadbare robe waiting for him, and he tucked himself into it gratefully.

Remus was in the kitchen, making tea, though the house was clearly helping by pretending that the tea wasn't PG Tips, and -

"Oh, milk," Sirius said instinctively, before it sank in that he'd said it, at which he hated himself and everything his family was.

"Yes, milk," Remus said, unfazed. "Do you want some?"

"No," Sirius said, and Remus, unlike what anyone else would've done, knowing the Blacks and what they were, didn't put any in.

Sirius leaned in and pressed his forehead to Remus's shoulder.

"Hello, you," Remus said fondly, and if it seemed a little sad, Sirius didn't blame him. But the house had welcomed him despite everything, and Remus had forgiven him, and that was enough for now, even if he was angry beneath his exhaustion.

"Thanks for the tea," Sirius said.

"We can't all drink baby's blood," Remus said, and that startled a laugh out of him, that did, enough that he stood up straight and looked at Remus's worn, scarred face.

"I missed you," Sirius said, joyous, and didn't kiss him, because - well, because it had been thirteen years, and they were both different men.

"I know," Remus said, the light shining golden over him and the tea steaming and all the cushions would probably have been soft, if they wanted to sit, or to lie down in the little sitting room and curl together.

Sirius took in the sight of him, knowing that no matter how long he spent at it the kettle would never sing out.

Remus's hair was going grey - they were too young for it, but Sirius hardly blamed him; the mirror in the bathroom had sighed slightly and made Sirius's own look silver and dignified - and he was still too thin, but his eyes were as wide and sharp as Sirius half-remembered from their youth and exactly as he had almost seen during the night in the Shrieking Shack.

Then, before they could stand there mooning at each other - ha! - for too long, he poured the boiling water out of the still-silent kettle.

 

Half the hints that had put them together in the first place had been the way their apartment woke up as they lived in it, after Hogwarts: tea in the mornings, the cushions softening and pushing them into each other. Sirius had lived in terror that it was the whole place responding to him until he'd walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth at the same time as Remus, and caught Remus glaring at the bathtub before glancing guiltily at Sirius.

So they'd both wanted it, and they'd both had it. The only good thing that his blood had made easier for him, Sirius thought: James had wanted to be human, just like Sirius, all the years of school. He'd wanted it before he'd fallen for Lily Evans, who'd loved him anyway, and probably would have been able to walk between the hills if she hadn't enjoyed just being a witch so much.

And then Voldemort, with Peter's help, had put them both in the ground.

 

Sirius spent too much time as a dog as it was, so they put an obscuring charm on his face and covered up his prison tattoos with clothes - there was luck in that the tattoos, while magical, weren't designed so that they sang out or gave away his location should he escape - and he went out with Remus to get groceries, do errands, things like that. Never alone.

He didn't like being a dog if he didn't have to, right now. There was something ugly about it, rather than comforting, and the thought of having a collar around his neck made him gag. He'd come out of the dark, and having a collar on on felt like being back there, in chains and desperate to go into the ground to escape. So he stayed resolutely human, and helped carry Remus's shopping, like maybe they could have a normal life in the light and the air together.


End file.
